


Spare A Glance For Words Unspoken?

by actingwithportals



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dehumanization, Gen, Hollow refers to themself as "The Vessel" in this fic, Hollow's POV of being sealed in the Temple, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection, as well as uses it/its pronouns, because yknow bad mental state and conditioning will do that to ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actingwithportals/pseuds/actingwithportals
Summary: The Pure Vessel knew what it had to do, for the sake of Hallownest, for the sake of its King. It thought it was prepared for that ultimate sacrifice, and the fate such a sacrifice carried.To think that - to think at all - was in fact the very heart of its failing, in the end.(Bad Things Happen Bingo fill 2: Can Only Move the Eyes)
Relationships: Herrah the Beast & The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Pale King
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722943
Comments: 24
Kudos: 176





	Spare A Glance For Words Unspoken?

**Author's Note:**

> I have A Lot of Feelings about The Hollow Knight ok???

The procession to the Temple of the Black Egg was more uneventful than expected.

By no means had it expected fanfare or grandeur, but the Vessel had thought – no, anticipated that perhaps the Dreamers and their respective retinues would at least have strung up a conversation at some point along the road.

They had converged in the City’s center, where a plot of the cobblestoned street the Watcher had suggested might someday hold a memorial in their honor was sectioned off. In honor to the Dreamers, of course, and the great sacrifice they would be making this night. Such a memorial would not be made for the Vessel; tools had no need of being remembered, after all. From there, accompanied by the King and His five Great Knights, they took the path up into the Crossroads, where the Temple waited patiently for their arrival.

If discomfort was a feeling it was allowed, the Vessel might have been ill at ease with the silent march. Few bugs would be out at this hour, and any that normally were would have been shut up in their homes by order of the Knights, who took great strides to ensure the procession would go uninterrupted.

Not that any bug would dare such a thing.

Those foolish enough to lack sensibility and driven by their fervor to lay eyes on their Monarch would be perturbed by the presence of the Queen of Deepnest in their midst. As for the more brazen sort, their fealty to their King prohibited they disobey orders from His Knights.

No, they would not be disturbed along the road.

The Vessel had met all of the Dreamers before, been introduced to them in the early days of its training. The Teacher, Monomon, was the first it had met. She had counseled the Pale King in the construction of the Vessels, and it had been imperative she assess from day one that it was, indeed, of Pure make. With each molt, the Teacher would be present to confirm its continued integrity. She had always appeared pleased with each growth, like a nailsmith admiring her latest forging.

If the Vessel were allowed to feel and express, it would say it was fond of the Teacher.

The Watcher, Lurien, was the next it had met. The introduction had only been a formality, really. He was merely to be acquainted with the tool that he would later give his life to seal away, and though he had always beheld the Vessel with civility, there was nothing more to be said about their interactions.

If the Vessel had been allowed any words, it would have none for the Watcher.

The Beast, Herrah, was the last for the Vessel to meet. It had not been out of a matter of practicality or formality, but one of something far more important, as she had phrased it. She told it such in a quiet moment when the King was not around to hear, and nestled asleep in her arms she held the very reason that tied her fate to its own. It had dared not dwell upon those words she spoke. To dwell was to think, and thought it was not granted.

The Dreamers’ retinues, however, weren’t all as familiar. The Vessel had encountered the beasts and weavers of Deepnest before but could not say it recognized any particular one that came as escort to their Queen. The seven knights of the Watcher all looked the same to the Vessel in their armor, but the little attendant glued to the Watcher’s side might have been familiar from any one of its encounters with their master. As for the Teacher’s scholars, only one stood out as notable, and that is because the Vessel had seen him on numerous occasions around the White Palace, not only as dedicated pupil to the Teacher, but also as frequent instructor to the Beast’s child on the times she had been permitted to visit.

The Vessel might not have been granted thought, but the closest approximation of such refused to reflect upon that matter entirely. That child was in the care of the Lady; it had no need to consider worry for her keeping.

Not that it had been allowed such a thing as worry.

Between the numbers gathered to escort (and subsequently transport upon their inevitable fall into slumber) the Dreamers, the Pale King’s own retinue of Knights – as well as the Monarch Himself – and the Vessel (though did its number count? Did one count the nails upon each back of an armed guard?), the size of the procession was above that of an average gathering. One would have expected conversation.

And yet it was quiet.

Perhaps there was nothing to be said. The Dreamers all knew for a long time now what their fate would be; any farewells or last requests would have been made amongst their companions long ago. And though the Knights were always given to conversation between themselves, the atmosphere of the night did little to encourage chatter. The Pale King, as always, spoke only when He deemed necessary.

The Vessel, of course, had not been allowed a voice, so it remained silent.

Therefore, when the Temple finally came into sight, and the procession gathered around within its atrium, the first voice to speak came as a startle that only marginally had to do with the one who brought it forth.

“This is it, then?” the Beast asked, gazing up at the Black Egg with critical eyes. “I expected something more.”

The Pale King did not make to respond to her.

“And what did you expect?” questioned Fierce Dryya, the one Knight the Vessel would have last expected to break the silence so soon.

The Beast seemed to consider this, tapping the side of her mask with a claw, as if thoughtful. “Something grander, perhaps,” she settled upon. “It lacks Your flair.”

Only at this direct address did the Pale King acknowledge the conversation. “The Egg is not of My make,” He answered, His voice no more than a whisper, yet somehow it echoed in the Vessel’s head louder than a shout. “And it required no more enhancement than what would be necessary for the Sealing.”

The Beast made a sound like scoffing – perhaps the Vessel would have assessed such a behavior as offensive, if from anyone else. “And when has necessity stopped You before?”

The Pale King did not answer that; it was unnecessary.

“We will set a perimeter, Your Majesty,” said Mighty Hegemol, turning to the other four Knights, all of whom only exchanged brief looks amongst each other before departing to their positions. The Great Knights were as diverse a group in Hallownest as any could be, yet they performed with a synchronicity that dared to rival even the Mantises of the Wastes. The Pale King would demand nothing less of His most trusted.

The room returned to silence, save for the soft shifting of the Dreamers’ retinues, who all stood around their respective masters in wait. As for the Vessel, its place had always been by the side of the King, and until the Sealing was complete, that was where it would remain.

The Pale King had positioned Himself before the Egg, though He did not waste His time gazing upon it as the Dreamers did. He seemed only to be paused in thought, perhaps making final internal assessments that all was ready for this moment He had for so long prepared.

At the cumulation of it all, did He waver?

The Vessel could not consider this, for considerations were not its place.

The silence lasted only a moment longer before the Pale King spoke again, addressing all of the Dreamers now. “I will Seal the Pure Vessel within; once this has been done and I return, you will conduct your own Sealing upon the entrance. Once this is complete, the slumber will overtake.”

He did not look to the Dreamers behind Him as He spoke; His eyes remained fixed upon the Egg. Would He finally turn to look to them in their last waking moments?

Would He look to it before Sealing it away?

“I trust you are both prepared for our part?” the Watcher asked, and though his words appeared directed to both Teacher and Beast, it was evident his concern truly lied with only one.

“Worry for your own performance, little bug,” the Beast advised, and the Vessel could almost sense how the Watcher shrunk back in poorly masked unease. He never did grow used to the Beast, had he? The Vessel couldn’t imagine why; it felt comfortable in the Queen of Deepnest’s presence.

If things like imagining and feeling were granted to the Vessel, as it were.

“We will await Your return, Your Majesty,” the Teacher said, possessing every bit of calm the collective retinues (and the Watcher, for that matter) lacked.

The Vessel’s attention, once again, returned to its King. He had still not moved from His stance, hands clasped beneath His robes and wings folded neatly against His back. Even standing before the collection of Void within the Egg, His Brilliance had not diminished in the slightest. Would it remain so upon entering? Would He shine as a beacon throughout their proceedings within?

The Vessel would have hoped that His Light be the last it sees before being consumed by the Dark, but it had not been granted the ability to hope.

“And we will be seeing you soon, then, as well,” the Beast spoke, and the Vessel knew she did not speak to the King.

It glanced behind, tearing its gaze away from its King to meet the eyes of the one who had addressed it. _You._ She always said that when talking to it. Addressing it like it were something alive and could acknowledge her words directly, rather than having them relayed through use like one would with an object. Only few ever referred to it in such a way, and rarely was such a thing allowed to continue outside of the King’s own occasional form of address. It never understood that of her, to continue this even after numerous corrections, but understanding was not its place.

The Beast’s eyes were sharp as ever, and they could pierce through the carapace of a lesser bug with no exertion. But the Vessel was not a bug, and it did not waver under her scrutiny.

Somehow, she’d always seemed pleased by that.

The Vessel did not respond to her; responses required thought, but it held her gaze for a moment longer than what would be considered expected before returning to its King.

The Pale King did not speak, but He remained still no longer. Soundless, He stepped forward through the entrance to the Black Egg, and the Vessel could do nothing else but follow.

The walk might have been long had its destination been anything different, but the Vessel found itself almost surprised by the timing of their arrival into the central chamber. The Pale King’s Light did indeed still shine, but only just, and that was the only light provided within this epicenter of Void.

Instruction was unnecessary, for the Pale King had long since prepared the Vessel for the steps of its role. It walked to the center of the room, turning so that it once again faced its King.

All that was left to do was wait.

The Pale King spoke no words, nor gave any indication that a command had been sent, but the Vessel recognized in an instant the presence of His power, and barely a moment later the Bindings began to fall into place.

The chains it had expected; a physical barrier put in place in case of an unthinkable outcome, but they alone would not hold the Vessel for long. The Seal of Binding it had anticipated; where physical bonds would be weak, the power of the Pale King’s Light could be strong. But what it hadn’t expected, what it somehow had overlooked in its own preparations, was the feeling of restraint.

It could not move.

And suspended a height nearly matching its own stature above the chamber floor, that realization created something within its chest almost to an approximation of fear.

The Pale King still did not speak, but He did now shift His gaze upwards, well above His own stature, to where the Vessel hung. His eyes met its own, and though it did not possess the physical materials for movement, its Void settled from any final inspections of its surroundings to its King placed below.

If this were to be the last sight granted to it in this world, it would not waste a moment.

For a time, the Pale King did not move, as if He were the one bound in place rather than the Vessel. Then, His glance shifted downwards, to some point beyond where the Vessel hung.

Did He not wish to save these last moments too?

The Pale King adjusted His stance, straightening up from the faintest slouch the Vessel had somehow failed to notice. “The Sealing is complete,” He spoke, whispers drifting up to the Vessel like smoke escaping through a chimney. “All that remains for you is to Seal the Old Light within. Focus upon it once the Egg is Sealed, and the Dream begins. You will sense it when that time comes.”

The Vessel gave no response, for it could not move.

“You will not fail in this,” the Pale King continued. “You alone were Pure, where thousand others were not. You cannot fail.”

The Vessel narrowed its focus so that it could only see its King; it could do nothing more.

The silence seemed to satisfy the Pale King well enough, for He now turned towards the entrance of the Egg, His face no longer visible to the Vessel. This did not concern it, for the ability to be concerned, it was not granted.

But as the Pale King began to walk, that fear-like approximation stirred more fervently within its chest.

_Will You not look back one last time?_

The Pale King paused, as if He had sensed a disturbance that could not exist. “No cost too great,” His whispers echoed, filling the chamber that should not be capable of such a thing.

With that, the Pale King walked away.

He did not look back.

There were no feelings as it watched its King leave, for the Pale King did not wish for it to have such feelings. It could not do as the Pale King did not wish.

The Vessel did not have a mind to think, so it did not despair at its King’s retreating form, His Light fading away with growing distance to be overwhelmed by the Void instead.

The Vessel did not have a will to break, so it did not feel whatever approximation of a heart it had carefully shatter as it realized its King would not look back one last time.

The Vessel did not have a voice to cry suffering, so it did not wail when the Egg finally shut, Sealing it alone with the Darkness.

It did not acknowledge the panic that built within its chest as the full weight of its fate finally came to realization.

Its Father locked it away in the dark, and He didn’t look back.

The Vessel did not cry.

It was not allowed tears.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate ending where Herrah grabs Hollow and Hornet and yeets outta this shit


End file.
